


A Very Enjolras and Grantaire First Date

by ecrituredelafangirl



Series: Miserable Quidditch [6]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Boys Kissing, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hogsmeade Dates, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrituredelafangirl/pseuds/ecrituredelafangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire go on their first date. It goes about as well as you could expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Enjolras and Grantaire First Date

Hogsmeade. Quaint. Historic. Enjolras knew almost everything about it (a product of numerous visits with Combeferre as well as his own perusal of several books on the Second Wizarding War), and he had never been this nervous about a visit. He was clever enough to believe that Grantaire might have a bit to do with that. Just a bit. 

“You know it’ll be fine,” Combeferre had said, with an easy smile, at breakfast that morning. The professors had long ago learned that trying to get them to sit at their assigned tables generally yielded a barricaded dormitory. Or two. 

“No, I don’t know that, Combeferre,” Enjolras said, perhaps a little harshly, “A million things could go wrong here. I don’t know what I was thinking. How in the hell did I convince myself that this was a good idea? All we’ve ever done is argue – he doesn’t understand where I’m coming from and I just… I _can’t_ understand where he comes from and this was a terrible idea. It was so bad. What in the flying fuck was I thinking?” 

Combeferre cleared his throat, giving Enjolras an amused glance over his glasses. “That you liked him. That he liked you. That it might be fun.”

“O, Jesus. It’s not going to be fun. It’s going to be a disaster,” Enjolras huffed. And then Courfeyrac snorted beside him. 

“It’s not going to be a disaster, mon ami,” he said. “Trust me.” He grinned, sunny and Courfeyrac-bright. And then he seemed to spot something down at the end of the table. “Now, if you excuse me, I have a Jehan to attend to.” And with a swift kiss to Enjolras’s forehead, he was gone. 

“If they get any less discreet, we might as well tie bells to their necks,” Combeferre said dryly, but he took a sip of pumpkin juice. “And you should at least try to get something down.” Enjolras met his worried gaze for the barest second before sighing and looking away. Enjolras wasn’t eating or drinking anything. His stomach felt as though it had managed to tie itself into a knot in overnight. 

It was at that moment that Grantaire appeared in the entrance of the Great Hall, looking slightly pale in contrast with the bright yellow of his scarf, but no less worse for wear. His eyes seemed to be scanning the hall. When they lighted upon Enjolras, the blond could have sworn he went several shades paler and then tried to turn around. However, Musichetta, who was about three steps behind him, just hooked her arm through his and dragged him into the hall. 

“O, dear God, he’s here,” Enjolras whispered. If he hadn’t been so busy staring at his empty plate in horror, he would have seen Combeferre smile, amused. He would have seen Musichetta pushing Grantaire their way. He would have seen her push him down at a table to their right before sitting down next to him, keeping a firm hold on his arm while she smiled at Bossuet. He might’ve laughed. 

“He looks as nervous as you,” Combeferre said mildly. Enjolras looked up to check and found himself meeting Grantaire’s eyes. He held his gaze for a moment, until Grantaire blinked, turning slightly pink, and looked away. Enjolras stared back at his plate. 

“I think I’m going to vomit,” he said lowly. 

“O, Merlin, Enjolras,” Combeferre laughed. “You’re being ridiculous.” And then he extended a hand, to cover his friend’s comfortingly. “You’re going to be fine. God knows you’re both competent enough wizards to handle anything that happens, magic-wise. And you’re both relatively competent humans, able to handle yourselves emotionally. Just try not to throttle each other over butterbeers, okay?” He smiled gently. “If you do though, get a message to me and I’ll help you hide the body.” 

And then Enjolras glared at him while he laughed. 

“Now who’s being ridiculous?” he asked, standing slowly. And Combeferre waved him off. 

“I was making a joke, Enjolras,” he said quietly. “Now go, have fun on your date.” 

And Enjolras rolled his eyes, before turning and walking towards the Entrance Hall. He couldn’t help the fond smile on his face. He had such _stupidly wonderful_ friends. 

“Hey,” he heard a voice and turned to find Grantaire framed in the entryway to the Great Hall, slightly breathless with a nervous smile on his face. 

“Hi,” Enjolras said, sounding small. And Grantaire swallowed uncomfortably. And Enjolras found himself reaching for his arm, pulling him to the side, out of view of everyone in the Great Hall. And then he sighed, his back against stone. 

“What are you doing?” Grantaire said, looking slightly bewildered, flushed. And Enjolras finally smiled at him, relaxing. 

“Hi,” he said, lowly. And Grantaire met his gaze and, slowly, smiled in return. 

“Hello,” he replied. And then Enjolras closed the sparse distance between them in one go, kissing Grantaire and losing all the tension that had previously made home of his muscles. He felt Grantaire relax against him as well. 

“O, thank God,” Grantaire whispered against his lips, “I have been so nervous all morning, you have no idea.” And Enjolras smiled. 

“O, I have an idea,” he whispered back and then allowed Grantaire to kiss him roughly, raking hands through curls, fingers clinging to shoulders. It felt nearly like flying. Enjolras was quickly becoming addicted. 

“And then the heavens were opened and a great celestial light came down and thank sweet Merlin, you two are making out _finally_ ,” Eponine said, coming up from the dungeons. She was grinning like the devil, with Cosette wolf whistling at her side and Enjolras turned bright pink as he resurfaced. 

“I-I,” he said quietly. And Grantaire grinned, gently twining their hands and pulling Enjolras from the wall. 

“O, shut up, Eponine,” he said, good-naturedly. And she winked at them before Cosette grabbed her hand and pulled her into the Great Hall, waving brightly. 

Soon after that, the students started out for Hogsmeade. Toussaint stood, nervously looking at each of them as they passed, trying to check of each of their names before they disappeared down the lane. Madame Baptistine stood beside her, frowning at every passing student, periodically clearing her throat into a threadbare handkerchief. 

“If she got any less agreeable, she’d be a toad,” Grantaire murmured to Enjolras, as they began their way down the lane, into Hogsmeade. Enjolras found himself trying to stifle laughter. 

“I disagree,” he replied, his voice equally as low. “I quite like toads.” And then it was Grantaire’s turn to laugh. 

“They do make wonderful pets, don’t they?” he said, with a smile that was only a shade self-conscious. 

“Not at all,” Enjolras replied easily, rubbing his thumb over the back of Grantaire’s hand. “My father had one, ages ago, though. Said it was wonderful for Transfiguration practice.”

Grantaire shrugged a bit, with a smile. “Your father’s a wizard?” 

Enjolras nodded. “Yes, he is. Put extraordinary importance into the fact that he was a half-blood. ‘Same as The Chosen One,’ he’d say, ‘Same as Harry Potter.’ My mother’s a Muggle though, and honestly couldn’t care less.”

“And you…?” Grantaire asked, as they passed through the archway into Hogsmeade village. 

“Don’t care either,” Enjolras replied. He almost missed Grantaire’s answering smile. 

“So… What exactly do you want to do today?” Grantaire asked. He pulled Enjolras to the side of the lane and turned to face him. 

“I…dunno. I’ve been to all the, ah, exhibits with Combeferre,” Enjolras replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“And I couldn’t care less about the ‘ah, exhibits’,” Grantaire said with a smile. 

Enjolras looked up at him, having to squint as the sun was behind his head. “Anything but Madame Puddifoot’s,” he said softly. And Grantaire turned a huge smile on him. 

“I think I may love you,” he said, seeming close to laughter. And Enjolras froze at the admittance, feeling blood rush to his cheeks, coloring his face pink. Grantaire’s smile softened several shades, before he leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to Enjolras’s cheek. “Shrieking Shack, then?” he said in a low voice, against Enjolras’s ear. And Enjolras had to ignore the shiver that sent down his spine. 

“Shrieking Shack,” Enjolras nodded. Then he cleared his throat as Grantaire pulled away a bit before gripping his hand and pulling him towards the end of the lane. 

The Shrieking Shack had about a thousand legends surrounding it these days – some of them true, some of them proven false. Enjolras knew all of them. 

“D’you know _why_ it’s called the Shrieking Shack?” he asked Grantaire as they crested the hill. The dilapidated house came into view, looking just as creepy as anything should be allowed to look and Enjolras couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face. 

“Of course,” Grantaire said, cocking an eyebrow. “The villagers used to believe it was haunted.” 

Enjolras grinned a bit, at the incomplete information. “Well, yes, but-”

“But it wasn’t, not really. The screaming, or shrieking, that originally gave the house its fame was actually the werewolf howls of one Remus Lupin. At least, during his time at school,” Grantaire rattled off. He smiled sideways at Enjolras’s surprised expression. “When he had to be snuck out of the castle at the full moon for the duration of his transformation.” 

And Enjolras was still staring at him dumbfounded. Grantaire merely reached for his hand and continued. “These trips on which he was eventually accompanied by his three closest friends – Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and James Potter.” And then he brought Enjolras’s hand up and gently pressed his lips to his knuckles. “You’re surprised,” he said lowly. 

“I didn’t know…” Enjolras tried, and Grantaire shot a smile his way. 

“That I knew so much?” he laughed. “The Second Wizarding War is a fascinating piece of our history, Enjolras. I know quite a bit about it.” 

“But that’s…”

“Rather obscure, yes, I know,” Grantaire said, shrugging, “but the Shrieking Shack is up there – one of my favorite things about the magical world as I’ve come to know it. I read everything I could about it my first year here.”

“You’re…Muggleborn?” Enjolras asked, sounding just a shade over surprised. And Grantaire shot him a look. 

“Yeah. Nothing to get your panties in a twist over, Enjolras, I promise,” Grantaire squeezed his hand. “You want a butterbeer?” he suddenly asked. And then without waiting for an answer, he started pulling Enjolras towards the Three Broomsticks. 

And it was the most awkward drink Enjolras had ever had in his life. And suddenly he knew he’d done something wrong. And he desperately backtracked, trying to figure out what he’d said so that he could _get that emotionless mask off of Grantaire’s face_. 

“So… Everything’s okay?” Enjolras asked, after a few seconds of awkward silence amongst the clamor of the bar. Grantaire glanced at him, trying to look unaffected. 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?” he said tersely. 

“I dunno… I, uh… I…” Enjolras was grasping at straws and he came up empty handed and Grantaire’s face was still closed off and his eyes were dull in their blue irises and Enjolras didn’t know him very well, but knew deep down inside that Grantaire didn’t deserve to look that way – that Grantaire looked so much better, so much more _right_ with that gorgeous smile on his face, the one Enjolras had seen this morning. And Enjolras had no idea how to fix this, but damn if he wasn’t going to _try_. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered cuttingly, across their little wooden table. And Grantaire regarded him warily. 

“For what?” he said, lowly. His dull tone had Enjolras cringing inside. 

“Whatever I said to upset you,” Enjolras said. He tried to reach across, put his hand atop Grantaire’s, but the other boy pulled away, his face closing off entirely. 

“It’s nothing, Enjolras,” he said. He was a good actor, but something was still off and Enjolras felt helpless and he _hated_ it. 

“Well, thank you for your time, your afternoon. I suppose I’ll be seeing you around,” Grantaire said. And then he finished off his drink in a practiced fashion, before leaving Enjolras at the table alone. And something in Enjolras’s chest twisted painfully as he walked out the door. And, in a moment, Enjolras was on his feet. Following him. 

It was becoming dusk outside, students milling about a bit as they stalled their return to the castle. And Grantaire was just a retreating figure becoming more distant with every step and Enjolras hated this helpless feeling, just _watching_ him, so he practically ran to catch up. 

“Can you at least tell me what it was I did wrong?” he said, and Grantaire stopped, turned around. “I mean, one moment we were talking about the Shrieking Shack, and you reading about it in your first year, and the next you’ve closed yourself completely off and I… I don’t understand.”

And Grantaire appraised him solemnly, something flickering in his expression. Then he mumbled something that Enjolras couldn’t hear. 

“What?” Enjolras took a step closer to him. It was like magnetism, he thought, somewhat deluded. The closer he got to Grantaire, the less…he didn’t even know anymore. 

“You… The way you…” Grantaire sighed. “The way you said ‘ _Muggleborn_ ’…” And he trailed off. 

And Enjolras felt himself blanch fiercely. “O, Merlin,” he swore. “I… Grantaire, I…” 

“I know there’s still a stigma on it, yeah. _Muggleborns aren’t as good_ … I mean, I get it. It’s kind of true – I suck at pretty much every part of this magic thing, but I still don’t like being _classed_ ,” he sighed. And Enjolras pretty much launched himself at him. 

Grantaire caught him awkwardly, looking completely an utterly surprised. “You’re brilliant, you know that? Please stop saying you’re not.” Grantaire’s face crumpled in on itself and Enjolras brought his hands up, gently stroked Grantaire’s face with his fingers. “I know you don’t believe it and I know you don’t like hearing it, but you are, you _really, really_ are.

“And I was in no way trying to class you – I am so sorry I made you feel that way. I was just… Muggleborns… I have a certain reverence for them. You have to battle through this, as you said, _stigma_ that you can’t possibly be as good at magic as someone with magical blood – which is such utter _shit_ that I can’t even begin to describe it. And I mean, I don’t understand how that entire view didn’t go out the window years ago – I mean, _Hermione Granger_ -”

And he caught Grantaire’s sudden smile. “You would have a hard-on for Hermione Granger.”

“Well her house elf initiative was absolutely brilliant,” Enjolras answered, almost automatically. “And, really, I don’t understand how people didn’t take one look at her and realize they were so _wrong_ about everything…”

Grantaire made a sound from the back of his throat. “Well, purebloods are set in their ways.”

“You’re telling me. I have more success talking to the venomous tentacula,” Enjolras grumbled. And Grantaire snorted. And suddenly the air was lighter and Enjolras felt so much better. 

“So… Are we okay?” he asked, looking up at Grantaire with wide eyes. Grantaire tightened his hold on Enjolras’s waist and _smiled_. 

And for the first time in his life, Enjolras understood what _butterflies in your stomach_ actually meant.

“Better than okay,” Grantaire said softly. And Enjolras smiled back at him for a moment before his eyes dropped, just a bit, and rested shamelessly on Grantaire’s mouth. And that was all the prompting it took before the other boy was kissing him with intent, licking into his mouth, pulling him flush against him, rolling his hips forward. And Enjolras clutched at him, his hands tangling in midnight curls and _pulling_. And Grantaire sucked in a breath that had Enjolras laughing lowly before pushing forward, taking his mouth again. And Grantaire moaned lowly into the kiss and it was the best feeling in the world. 

And then someone ‘whooped’ loudly and they startled apart, looking up to find Jehan, on Courfeyrac’s shoulders standing with Bahorel, Feuilly, Cosette and Marius, all of them wolf-whistling, or gesturing crudely. And Enjolras flipped them off as Grantaire laughed loudly before gripping Enjolras’s hand and pulling him up towards school. 

And when they reached the Entrance Hall, Grantaire pulled Enjolras down towards the basement, towards the Hufflepuff common room, before stopping at a statue of Cedric Diggory and pulling Enjolras behind it. “Thank you. For going out with me,” Grantaire whispered, bringing up his free hand to stroke Enjolras’s cheek. 

“It was my pleasure,” Enjolras said earnestly. And Grantaire colored gorgeously and looked down. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said slowly. And then he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing. 

“How about we…do it again next week?” Enjolras sounded hopeful and Grantaire’s eyebrows shot up. 

“I-I… I mean, if you really want to…” he said, suddenly awkward. 

And Enjolras brought Grantaire’s hand up, kissed his knuckles gently. “I really want to.”

And then Grantaire leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to Enjolras’s. It was soft and lingering and more lovely that Enjolras could have hoped. And then it was over and Grantaire rained kisses over the rest of Enjolras’s face before backing away, with the promise of tomorrow falling from his lips. Then he was gone. 

And it was all Enjolras could do not to _skip_ up to his dormitory.

**Author's Note:**

> These two need to kiss all the time. :)
> 
> Leave any comments or concerns in the comment box below, or at my tumblr address: http://ecriture-de-la-fangirl.tumblr.com
> 
> I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful evening. :)


End file.
